


Say the Magic Words: I

by reconditarmonia



Series: Say the Magic Words [1]
Category: Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Judaism, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22928689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia
Summary: Miryem receives a gift from one of her subjects.
Series: Say the Magic Words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660381
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53
Collections: Purimgifts 2020





	Say the Magic Words: I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).



“Try it, my lady,” the craftswoman said.

Had some whim of fate swept me up like a whirlwind and set me down on a throne in the sunlit world, I could probably have expected all kinds of gifts and tributes from every corner of my new kingdom. But the Staryk, even those who wouldn’t consider a gift to be a mortal offense, were hardly used to the idea, so I didn’t feel slighted at the lack, even after I’d proven myself worthy to be their queen. It made it easier for me to meet in person with any of them who wanted to try this strange new human custom, and offer me something they’d grown or made for nothing more than thanks. 

Tsop or Flek must have talked about the _candles_ I spoke of, when I marked Shabbat each week here without any to light or anyone who understood what they were, because that was what the Staryk craftswoman had called them when she’d offered them to me just minutes ago: two cups of crystal, filled with a clear dark liquid that seemed more like glass than water, and no wick. We didn’t want for light in the mountain of ice, with its glowing walls and crystal outcroppings, so I didn’t know what would make these different.

I covered my eyes, the way my mother would have if we were lighting the Shabbat candles at home, feeling foolish and self-conscious for doing so with no candlelight to shield my eyes from. _Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who sanctifies us with commandments, and commands us to light the Shabbat lights_. And when I opened my eyes and lowered my hands, half suspecting that nothing would have changed, I saw two small blue-white flames dancing atop the glassy liquid, like will-o'-the-wisps. They were neither hot nor cold to the touch -- I held my finger right in the heart of the flame, and didn't feel anything -- but each one shone like a little star, and when they flickered in a current of air, they sent faint shadows jittering across the crystal walls, just like real candles.

I realized I was smiling like a child with a new toy, at these strange candles that burned without heat and lit without a tinderbox or a hot coal, only with -- well, with thanks, in a land where a thank-you was a coin on a scale that needed to be balanced with something. They brought me joy on Shabbat, and that was the part that mattered, I told myself. Then I found that I believed it. I could light my candles while my mother and father lit theirs in their little house in the forest, a world away, my grandparents and cousins in the big house in the city, more of us in countries I’d never seen, and that light was life and joy to me as surely as if the flames burned hot and yellow instead of icy blue.

The craftswoman seemed taken aback by my surprise, pleased though it was. “Was it not what you expected, my lady?” she asked, worry written in her face. “We make a promise, with these words as a token, and this is the token of the return we receive. Is it not right?”

She’d said “we,” not “you” -- and that was a gift as great as, and far more unexpected than, the candles themselves. It warmed me all through, and I could have hugged her, if I’d thought that it wouldn’t disconcert her even more. "It's perfect. Thank you."

  
  



End file.
